Oblivious
by ali was already taken
Summary: *SEQUEL TO LEADERSHIP* So maybe he wasn't as oblivous as they thought... [welcome back to the soap opera]
1. Acte deux

AN: YAY! Sorry... I'm still on a high from writing this! ACK! So here it is, kiddies *fanfare* the sequel!!!! ... okay, so maybe I'm the only excited one... BUT STILL!!!! No time for shoutouts for the last chapter of Leadership (damn homework!) but to everyone who reviewed - thank you thank you thank you! *high fives all around*   
  
  
  
As the captain is now preparing for take off, please extinguish all flammable items, as you will see that the no smoking sign has been turned on. Please ensure that all seats and tray tables are secured in their fully upright position. Your emergency exits are to the rear of the aircraft, and there are emergency lifebelts underneath your seats. Have a pleasant flight, and thank you for flying Alex Airlines :)  
  
  
  
  
  
******  
  
  
  
  
  
  
They say ignorance is bliss.   
  
  
  
I've seen him watching her.   
  
I've heard her tears at night.  
  
I know what he wears around his neck.  
  
  
  
  
Why couldn't I have just stayed oblivious?  
  
  
  
  
*****  
  
  
  
  
His lips were soft as they caressed hers. His hands were wrapped firmly in her hair, and as she clung to him, she never wanted to let go. He pulled away briefly to, and his ice-blue eyes smiled down at her...   
  
  
Keys' eyes flew open at a touch on her cheek.  
  
  
"Heya, Key." Locks' voice shattered her dream world as his fingers traced patterns along her arm.  
  
  
"It's time to get up. We've got papes to sell." He pressed his lips to her forehead and wandered off towards the bathroom. As she watched him go, she let out a breath that she hadn't even been aware of holding.   
  
  
He can't find out   
  
  
The once sporadic dreams had turned into nightly visions, taunting her with their perfection. Every day, she walked through the streets of Brooklyn, avoiding his route. Every night, she dreamt of being in his arms, of feeling his touch, his kiss... and every morning she awoke riddled with guilt.  
  
  
How can I be in love with two people at once?   
  
  
As she sat up and stretched, her eyes were drawn immediately to his forbidden figure. Spot had his back to her, and as he struggled sleepily to put on his shirt, the unwelcome answer to her question floated through her mind.  
  
  
You aren't in love with two people.   
  
  
You're only in love with one.   
  
  
  
  
  
*****  
  
  
  
  
  
Lock sighed as he walked off down the streets of Brooklyn, leaving Key to take her own selling route. There had been that far-away look in her eyes again this morning. He tried to convince himself that he hadn't seen her flinch when he kissed her, that he hadn't seen her watching Spot almost unconsciously this morning. His heart, however, told him otherwise.  
  
  
I know who she dreams about at night.   
  
  
His eyes fell to the ground as he tried to clear his mind of her. Locks' papers were balanced on his shoulder, but he didn't bother calling out headlines - who knew what his voice might betray? He turned the corner to wander down 5th Avenue...  
  
  
  
BAM! And it was raining newspapers. Lock lay on the sidewalk, his breath half knocked out of him by the brown-eyed person lying on top of him. The eyes met his, the face turned a brilliant shade of red and it gasped.  
  
  
"Oh, gosh, I'm so sorry!" The voice was melodious and most definitely feminine - it occurred all too uncomfortably to Lock what a compromising position they were in. Fearing the worst, he scrambled quickly out from under her, attempting to regain his composure along with his balance.  
  
  
When he finally managed to stand, he held out a hand to help her off the pavement. Pulling her up, he realized how tiny she was, her head barely reaching his shoulder. Once on her feet, her eyes widened as she gazed around them.  
  
  
"Oh, goodness! I'm such a klutz!"   
  
  
What is she talking about? Lock wondered to himself, still completely transfixed with her. She knelt to the ground and began gathering up -   
  
  
"Shit! My papes!" They were an island in a sea of black and white. Lock hadn't sold a single one of his 75 newspapers, and now they adorned the street like oversized confetti.  
  
  
Mentally berating himself for being so out of it over a mere girl - you have a girlfriend, you fool! - he began to help her.  
  
  
And that's when the skies opened up.  
  
  
Lock let loose a formidable string of curses before standing up. There was no point in trying to sell wet papes - the ink was already running everywhere, making rivers of black along the dirty ground. Noticing that the girl was still on her hands and knees, he shouted over the sudden rumble of thunder -  
  
  
"Don't bother!"  
  
  
She glanced up, pushing her already soaking hair out of her eyes.  
  
  
"What?!"  
  
  
Lock reached down and grasped her hand in his, pulling her to her feet. Trying to make himself heard over the deafening crack of lightning, Lock pulled her to him so that he could speak directly into her ear;  
  
  
"There's no point. I can't sell wet papers."   
  
  
The rain got harder, seeming almost to pierce his skin as the droplets fell. No sense in standing out here in the rain, he thought.  
  
  
"You wanna get outta here?"  
  
  
"What?!"   
  
  
This girl has gotta get her hearing checked, he thought with a roll of his eyes. He reached down to grab her hand - and realized that he'd never let go. Her small hand was still encased in his. Holding back the thoughts that were clamoring for his attention, he decided to forgo the verbal communication and began tugging her down the street. She followed after a slight hesitation, and soon they were walking down the middle of the street, hand in had, as the rain soaked them to the bone. Lock couldn't keep the smile from his lips, and, chancing a glance at her, saw the full-out grin on hers.   
  
  
  
This is how it's supposed to be   
  
  
His smile faltered, and he dropped her hand.  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
Why the hell couldn't I have stayed oblivious?   
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
*****  
  
  
  
  
  
  
AN: K, so I dunno how the updates on this one are going to be... the writers' block has taken over my brain!!!!! But I'll try to update as frequently as I can. Lemme know what you think... :) ace 


	2. Scène deux

AN: I'm SO sorry about the delay in this... writer's block is SATAN!!!!!! *sob* ... but I've finally overcome it, and produced this sub-par chapter. I'm sorry. You guys don't deserve to be forced to endure this. It's really quite terrible... but please don't hate me. You can leave me a bzillion reviews telling me that you'd like to kill me for writing such terrible drivel, because I probably deserve it, but don't hate me, okay?? :)  
  
*insert standard disclaimer here* [+ Dreamer belongs to Dreamer, tous le monde.]  
  
Wahoo for reviewers!!  
  
Rhapsody - *runs to pick you up, but ends up tripping over you and falling flat on her face* aw damn... lol WAHOO! It's my favourite reviewer! Welcome back, me dearie, and thanks SO much for the review! ... now that I've updated this, I can say - UPDATE YOUR STORY DAMMIT!!! Heh... I like being able to do that *grin* Je t'aime, mon amie!  
  
Dreamer - thanks for attacking my writer's block. It took a while to come in to effect, but HAH! It did! ... I wrote 7 pages today!!!!!!!! ... 'course, they were 7 *crappy* pages, but STILL! It's fantastique. Thanks for the review, kiddo!!!  
  
Shorty Carter - duuuuuuuude, brownies! You're wunderfful and a half! Thanks for the review and the baked goods!! :)  
  
Raven's Wing - wahoo! I *love* your reviews 'cause they're helpful. You were right about the needing to write thing...and you were also right about the not liking what you write part. Aw damn. Oh well. I'll get over it. I hope...*bites nails*...but yeah, I've got tons of ideas for this story, and I'm beginning to love it more than Leadership, so I think it's gonna take a while before it's resolved! thank you for your compliments, comments and your lovverly review, as always :)  
  
Raeghann - BRING BACK MY MUSES!!! Are we going to have to get on a plane and drag them back here??? *shakes fist in general direction of France* DAMN YOU!!!!! ... anyway blushes thanks SO much for the compliments; they really mean a lot coming from you! je t'adore, mon amie, and update your stuff soon :)  
  
Ice- WAHOO FOR REVIEWS! thank you tons and tons and tons!!!  
  
Bottles - *blushes* oh goodness! Thank you so much for saying that! I love the romance, what can I say *sheepish grin* thank you SO much for reviewing!! :)  
  
Serina - you're a hopeless romantic, too?? *does happy dance* YAY! I have a partner in crime! Oh, don't worry - there will be much Spot/Key love, considering who I am, but not necessarily as much as in the last one. Thank you SO much for the review, and welcome to the hopeless romantics club. :)  
  
GYYYYYPPPPPPSSSSSSYYYYYYY - *falls off her chair laughing and emerges some time later, very bruised looking oh kiddo, you crack me up so (WOAH I made a rhyme!! lol) - but WAIT! You're under house arrest - again - ?!?!??!!???! this is insanity. INSANITY I tell you!!! but anyway - thank you SO much for the compliments, you rock my socks, and damn you for insulting your writing style! I happen to ADORE it, thank you very much! *shakes fist* mais bien - ill send you that letter one of these days...heh...and glomping spot clone?? Whatever are you talking about?? Im not doing that *right*now*... heh....*shifty eyes*... heh... *cue superhero theme* uh-oh, my ali sense is tingling! There is evil afoot! TO THE ALI MOBILE! Over and out, ali*licious grin :)  
  
  
  
*********  
  
  
  
  
Their companionable silence was broken only by the sounds of the rain hitting the roof of the gazebo. Central Park was beautiful under the rain, if you knew where to look. The silent girl beside him only added to the beauty of the moment, although she wasn't particularly gorgeous. Her eyes seemed almost grey in the light and her hair was dripping down her back. She somewhat resembled a drowned cat - and yet Lock couldn't tear his eyes away.   
  
"What's your name?" he half- whispered, afraid of shattering the magical atmosphere. She turned towards him, and a soft smile lit up her face.   
  
"So I take it you don't remember me." Her voice was as cautious as his.  
  
"Am I supposed to?" he wondered out loud with a puzzled smile.  
  
"Nah," the girl turned her eyes back out to the wet branches of the trees surrounding them, "I guess not. I didn't think you did."  
  
"I'm confused - how..." and as Lock looked at her, something about the way that she was standing, something about her eyes and the way that her wet hair was plastered across her back tugged at a memory in his heart. She raised her eyes slowly to his, and suddenly, he knew.  
  
"Dreamer," he breather, and a smile lit up her eyes once more.  
  
"Heya Ghost," she grinned gently, "It's good to see you."  
  
Ghost. With that one word, a whole slew of memories came rushing back. His days in Queens after some stupid fight with Spot had pushed him out of Brooklyn. Hot, sticky summer nights filled with cigarettes and alcohol, countless craps games, laughter at crude jokes and a startling friendship with the girl now standing beside him. They had called him Ghost because they jokingly didn't believe that anyone could get into a disagreement with Spot Conlon and be left unharmed - he was really just a dead man walking.   
  
She looked different, now. She was older, wiser perhaps - Dreamer had grown up. And yet, as he regarded her, something about her hadn't changed. Her eyes were still a soft brown, almost yellow as the light from the intermittent sun caught them. A faded blue ribbon was twined through the topmost buttonhole of her shirt. Reaching out a hand to touch the familiar fabric, he smiled in disbelief.  
  
  
  
Here's the one girl that got away...so what are you gonna do about it?  
  
  
  
Ignoring the traitorous voice in his head, he pulled her into a hug. She smelled exactly the way that she used to, and Lock had to pull away quickly before doing something that he would regret.  
  
  
  
Or would you regret it?  
  
  
  
As they parted, an awkward silence settled over the scene. For a moment, there was nothing but the sound of the rain against the ground and the wet rustle of the trees as the water coated their branches.  
  
The silence stretched out for what seemed like forever, until -  
  
"I -" they both began. Dreamer laughed, a laugh that was equal parts relief and embarrassment.   
  
"Go ahead, Ghost, " she grinned at him.  
  
"I - I was just gonna say, " he started rather nervously, "That I missed you." his voice cracked embarrassingly on the last word, and he blushed at her smile before he could turn away, her soft words stopped him.   
  
"I missed you, too." If he hadn't known better, he would have said that there was something resonating behind those words. Something warm, and gentle, and so absolutely beautiful that he wouldn't allow himself to acknowledge it. That same forbidden "something" flashed in his eyes before he could mask it.   
  
  
  
She's been here for five minutes, and already you're living in the past...  
  
  
  
Needing to shock himself back into reality, Lock asked the question he had promised himself to not ask.  
  
"How's Nails?"  
  
There was nothing beautiful hidden in her tone as she responded,   
  
"He's fine."  
  
And yet Lock still mistook the sudden wetness of her eyes for a loving twinkle, and he turned away.  
  
"You two are still together, then?"  
  
"Together." Her voice was twinged with bitterness, "I suppose you could say that."  
  
  
  
Why does it hurt her to say that? ...   
  
  
  
"I'm glad." It sounded fake, even to him, "You two always seemed to be meant for each other."  
  
Dreamer sighed almost imperceptibly, "That's what they tell me."  
  
Lock finally caught the edge of unhappiness in her tone and looked at her with a question in his eyes.  
  
"Dreamer, what's - "  
  
"I just love Central Park under the rain," she interrupted, "Don't you? It's so much more romantic...The rain seems to make it less grey, somehow."  
  
Lock stepped forward, his brow still furrowed in puzzlement, but Dreamer ignored him, ploughing forward with her words.  
  
"How 'bout you, Ghost?" her eyes were feverishly bright as she turned to face him. "You gotta girl back home?"  
  
Now it was his turn to sigh, and her turn to misunderstand.   
  
"Yeah, I guess you could say that."  
  
"You guess?" she raised an eyebrow. "Is she your girl, or isn't she?"  
  
"She's my girl," he responded, his voice suddenly husky. "It's just..."  
  
"Complicated?" Dreamer contributed. Lock nodded, not wanting to get into the whole love-triangle situation - it was far too depressingly clichŽ for a rainy day.  
  
Dreamer rested her elbows on the sodden railing of their shelter and regarded the sky with understanding in her eyes.   
  
"I know what you mean. Everything is like that, now."  
  
He couldn't help but notice the pretty shapes her lips made as she spoke.  
  
"Do you remember when we used to sell together on rainy days just like this one? An' we would have terrible business 'cause dry newsies are bad enough, but no one wants to set foot anywhere near a wet one?", her voice took on an almost childish tone as her eyes because full of memories.  
  
"'Member how we used to go an' sit underneath a tree by the pond and watch the rain against the water and just...forget?"  
  
Lock's breath caught, and he half-smiled at the memory now dancing across his conscious.   
  
"We used to play the "what-if?" game," he murmured.  
  
"To forget."  
  
Lock nodded, silent once more.   
  
Dreamer's eyes lost their trademark glaze, and she became very interested in her feet all of a sudden.  
  
"I tried to play it with Nails," she whispered as if confessing some terrible secret, "He didn't understand."  
  
Lock saw her shoulders tense, and saw her close here eyes against a much less pleasant memory of raucous, mocking laughter.  
  
  
  
...is that just a raindrop, or...?  
  
  
  
He had to ask. Placing a hand gently on her shoulder, he questioned softly -   
  
"Dreamer, what's going on with Nails?"  
  
She didn't respond, her brown eyes fixed once more on the cloud-ridden sky.  
  
"Did he -"  
  
She whirled to face him before he could finish his sentence, her hand against his lips. The vast depths of pain in her eyes were poorly masked, and the tear that slid it's way slowly down her cheek branded his heart forever.  
  
"Don't ask, Ghost," she pleaded with a regret-filled smile, "Just please don't ask me that."   
  
Before Lock could utter another word, she seemed to somehow push the pain out of her eyes.  
  
"Let's play a game," she smiled up at him, grasping his wrist in her free hand, "Will you play with me?"  
  
Her look was beseeching, begging him to let it go. Lock didn't respond, his gaze steady with hers.  
  
A moment, suspended forever in time, passed before she turned away, her voice husky.  
  
"Don't look at me like that. Ghost, please don't look at me like that. How am I supposed to..."  
  
"What if you were the President's daughter?" his gentle question sent a wave of relief flowing through her, and she turned to face him, her smile lighting up their small piece of the world.  
  
"If I were the President's daughter," she began, stepping towards him; "I would have a mansion full of servants." She took his hand in hers, pulling him down beside her. "They would all call me "Miss". I would have a personal maid called Rosie. She would help me get dressed to go out sometimes, in my fine walking suit with a matching parasol." She stretched out on the floor of the gazebo, ignoring the wetness that seeped through her clothes as Lock rested his head gently on her stomach, mimicking her posture. "I would walk through the streets, buying whatever I wanted. I would go back home and I would get my father to tell me the daily news, because - I would never have to touch another newspaper again!"   
  
  
  
Her gales of laughter echoed out through the gazebo roof, past the treetops, into the sky.  
  
  
  
  
And the sun broke through the clouds.   
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
********  
  
  
  
AN: review as always, s'il vous plait ... grrrrrrrr...  
Aww, and it could have been so good... *shakes fist* 


	3. Scène trois

I SUCK AT UPDATES!!!!!!!!!!!! I'm sorrrrreeeeeeeeee *sob* If I don't have any readers left, I think that I kinda deserve it! Anyway, this chapter is again so sub-par that I'd like to tear it to shreds and set it on fire, but arkarkark for some reason I'm posting it. GARH this story has become the bane of my existence! WHERE THE HELL ARE MY MUSES???? *sob* ... anyway, now that that insane rant is over and done with, on to shout outs:  
  
* Dreamer - ARK sorry this update took so long! And I feel even WORSE 'cause you've been such a goddess about updating your fantabulous story... grrrrr ... anyway, no you in this chapter, but oh there will be much more Dreamer-dahling :) merci beaucoup for the praise, tho I don't think I deserve it, especially after this poor pathetic excuse for a chapter, but meh. Ego boosts are always appreciated :) thanks for the review!  
  
* Rhapsody - WOAH I have writersblockitis too!!!!! ... do you think it's contagious? 'cause maybe I gave it to you! OH NO!!!!! goodness, I hope not! :s anyway - merci so much for the review! WAHOO and a half! :)  
  
* Ice - thankie, darling! Wahoo for reviews!  
  
* Raven's Wing - Oui, that boy is dense... he's getting less dense and more annoyingly slow now, though :) Yeah, I wasn't really happy with the way that I introduced Dreamer... I'm not very happy with this story at all, actually. Argh :( but oui, in time, you will hate nails. Goodness, I hate that boy, and I haven't even written about him yet! *shakes fist at nails* mais bien - thanks so much for the review!  
  
* GYPSYYYYYYY!!! - wahoo I love hearing from you *pretends that she didn't talk to you on msn like three days ago* lol - anyway, ark. UPDATE YOUR STORIES DAMMIT! And oui, I'll mail your letter, mail me mine!!! *pout* WAHOO FOR GYPSY! Thanks for the review, mon amie  
  
* Raeghann - thanks so much for your help! 'coise, I'm gonna need to enlist your genius services again very soonish, 'cause this story is so uninspired that it almost hurts... but yeah! Update your stories, dammit! Je t'aime! WAHOO :)  
  
* Chronicles Bailey - :) thankie for your review! :)   
  
*****   
  
The raindrops were lazily winding their way down her cheeks as she wandered her way back towards the lodging house. The grey sky above mirrored her mood. Key had somehow managed to sell most of her papers that morning, and yet a feeling of overwhelming melancholy was creeping at her heart. She had seen Lock that morning, his eyes fixed on another girl, a grin tugging at his lips that she hadn't seen for ages.   
  
Not since he had come back, that is.  
  
She dazedly stumbled up the cement steps of the lodging house, entering the familiar building without thought. Lost in her confused reverie, she made it all the way up into the bunkroom without realizing it.   
  
I shouldn't be allowed to feel hurt by that.   
  
Her heart was torn, somehow, half of it leaping and falling at every sight of Spot, every thought of Spot, every memory of him... the other half was now twisted into a sickening combination of guilt and unhappiness.  
  
Key curled herself up on a bunk, her eyes almost completely void of the things she was feeling. The wetness of her hair began to dampen the pillow under her, and she clutched herself tighter, trying to remember to breathe.   
  
Why am I allowed to care?  
  
"Heya, Brooks, I was wonderin' if - " a gravelly voice broke through her cloud of self-hatred. A gravelly, familiar and comfortably heart-breaking voice. Key started up immediately, her hands scrabbling to swipe away the evidence of pain that her tears had left behind. She turned, wide-eyed, to meet his eyes. They changed colour almost imperceptibly as they swept her face in surprise.  
  
Grey is the colour of cement, of rain, of unhappiness, of heartbreak...  
  
"Oh," he murmured, his eyes frozen on hers, "It's you."  
  
"Hiya." Her whispered response sounded foreign.  
  
Don't look at me like that.  
  
His eyes had already caught the tell-tale tear tracks down her face, and his brow furrowed.   
  
Please don't look at me like that.  
  
Key cast her eyes downwards, and her shoulders slumped as he took a step forward.  
  
"Key, are you alright?"  
  
She slipped on a mask of happiness and attempted a smile, "I'm fine, thank you. Just great. In fact, I'm so great that I - " her voice failed her.  
  
The mask slipped.  
  
"Leave me alone, please." Her tone was delicate, fragile, attempting to hold back a world of misery.   
  
Spot stepped forwards once more.  
  
Her voice took on a frantic tone as the first of many tears slipped down her cheek.  
  
"Please just leave me alone!"  
  
He didn't respond. Key clamped a hand to her mouth, trying desperately to gulp back her sobs. Spot reached out a hand to her, his fingers feathering across her cheek as he ventured closer than he had in weeks. Key broke down as she leaned into his touch, her gasping breaths the only disturbance in the room. Gently, as if afraid of breaking the momentary connection between them, Spot knelt down beside her bunk, his fingers rubbing at her tears. He pulled her gingerly into an embrace, and as she buried his face in his chest, he had to hold himself back from burying his in her hair.   
  
Key melted into his warmth, her shuddering sobs quenched by the relief that was flowing into her. She nestled further into his arms, tucking her head contentedly underneath his chin, and let herself be comforted by the soft beat of his heart.   
  
She couldn't hold back her sigh.  
  
He stiffened immediately, seeming to almost draw her closer as he whispered, "Key, we shouldn't be doing this."  
  
Hours passed before he felt her lips move against his shoulder.  
  
"I need this", she murmured, pressing further into him. Almost imperceptibly; "I need you."   
  
His hands moved of their own accord, pulling her closer, sweeping through her tangled hair. His words were choked with responsibility, "You're not allowed to need me."  
  
And still she was there, her scent filling his nostrils, winding it's way through his sensory system and straight into his heart. His eyes refused to obey his desperate commands and slipped shut. He drew in a breath, a painful gasp of longing.  
  
"Can't we just pretend?..." Key trailed off as Spot clung to her, unable to loose the hold his heart had on her.   
  
It's so easy to drown in her...  
  
"Well, if this isn't a compromising position, I don't know what is." A ruefully amused voice broke the spell.  
  
Spot dropped his arms immediately, his head bowed, trying desperately to catch his breath.   
  
Key turned slowly around, her heart aching for the third time that day.   
  
Lock was leaned nonchalantly up against the door frame, his blond hair damp with rainwater and his eyes incomprehensibly serene.  
  
"Lock, I ... " Key's voice was husky with guilt, "Spot and I were just - we were just..."  
  
In three quick strides, Lock was before here, a finger on her lips and a ghost of a smile on his face.   
  
"It's okay, Key." He smiled down at her, pecking her on the forehead before continuing. "I know."  
  
For a moment, her heart leapt.   
  
He knows, he understands, we can - no.   
  
He knows.   
He understands.   
He forgives me.  
  
He hasn't let me go.   
  
Key let him take her hand and lead her from the bunkroom.   
  
*****  
  
Grey is the colour of cement, of rain, of unhappiness, of heartbreak, of dingy skies and half-hearted words.  
  
Grey is the colour of the weight that hangs around my heart; that chains me to her.  
  
Grey is the colour of keys.  
  
A shaft of sunlight warmed the floorboards beside his feet, and Spot Conlon willed himself to give up.  
  
*****  
AN: okay, I'm not liking the direction that this story is going in... I think I'm going to attempt to fix it. March break is coming up, thank god, so hopefully you guys can expect an update and hopefully less of a crappy story in about a week and a half. Dude, this sucks...anyway, r+r as always! :) why oh why wont ff.net let me do italics? whyyyyy?? 


	4. Scène quatre

AN: WOAH! I know. It's scary. I'm finally updating. *cower* doode, what's with that? Mais bien – its late, and I'm sick, and therefore I have no time for shoutouts – but I LOVE YOU ALL TO PIECES! Seriously. You all rock my knee socks. Enjoy J

*****

The stars were just beginning to twinkle in the darkening sky when Queens invaded Brooklyn. It wasn't a hostile take over, no, far from it. They came armed with booze, cards and strict instructions not to violate the unnerving peace that had settled between the two boroughs some time before.

"Ya get in a brawl, and ya on ya own, boys." Nails had threatened that morning.

So here they were, gambling addictions in hand, and wary looks in their eyes. There were echoes of bloodshed as they tramped up the steps.

Spot Conlon stood in the front foyer, his face stone and barely a hint of heartbreak in his eyes. In the face of adversary, you've just gotta pull on a mask and do the best you can. 

Nails halted his troops just inside the doors. The two leaders stood silently facing one another, the tension thick enough to cut with a knife. Almost the whole world seemed to pause, waiting with bated breath.

Waiting.

Waiting.

And then, almost simultaneously, their faces broke into grins; Nails took a swaggering step forward and Spot met him halfway.

"Welcome to Brooklyn, boys!" his voice reached every newsie in the room as if it were some unspoken signal, and the ice broke.  A warm wave of camaraderie swept over the Lodging House, chairs were pulled up, cards were shuffled, whiskey bottles uncorked, and the fun began. 

Few seemed to notice when Spots' mask slipped for a moment as he fingered his slingshot. Heartbreak, heartache and all degrees of suspicion. For all his grins and spitshakes and outward welcoming, he didn't trust Nails father than he could throw him. 

Because something must have made Lock come back, after all.

His thoughts were broken, however, as a single girl entered the room.

Isn't that - ?

*****

Lock's arm was heavy across her shoulders as he played cards one-handed. _Feels more like a ball and chain every day._ Key felt out of the loop sitting here with him; she was seen as little more than a prize to his long-lost friends from Queens. "Ghost" they all called him, referring back to a time when she had lost her best friend to them – the most miserable period of her life.

_Well, almost the most miserable._

She couldn't keep her thoughts from straying in that familiar direction, no matter how wrong or forbidden or cruel it was. _Wanting what you can't have_, she mused, her lips twisting upwards into a self-deprecating smile, _always wanting what you can't have. _

And as her eyes fell upon the object of her affection, her heart broke just a little bit more. He was standing slightly to her left, his hair ever hanging in his eyes and looking as regal as she had ever seen him.

Don't catch his eye, Key. You know that you'll never be able to hold yourself back if you do.

She needn't have worried. He was staring past her, motionlessly staring at – another girl. A beautiful girl, brown hair, chocolate eyes, simply paused in the doorway.

She practically glows.

His eyes didn't move, his breath seemed to be caught in his throat.

Just when you think that it can't hurt any more … 

A hot spark of pain coursed through her, starting somewhere in her chest and speeding swiftly throughout her entire body. Lock felt her shudder, saw the tears in her eyes, and as he turned to embrace her, worry written all over his countenance … 

His face lit up and he jumped to his feet:

"Dreamer!"

The girl in the doorway raised her eyes to meet Locks' and her face broke out into a delighted smile. She leapt to meet him, arms outstretched, and Key knew immediately where she was from.

Neither noticed the girl standing behind them in the rain. Papers were everywhere, ink all over… but all they could do was watch each other. She couldn't tear her eyes away as he clasped her hand in his, water running down both their faces … and a smile … a smile she hadn't seen for weeks … 

And now here she was again, that girl, the girl from the rainy day – _that rainy day_, she realized, _was today._ It's funny how time seems to fast-forward when there's hurting involved. Here she was, the girl he smiled for, wrapped up in his arms, eyes closed, the picture of perfection.

As Key watched, unable to tear her eyes away, Nails sauntered into the picture. His walk was the movement of a cat, waiting to pounce on his prey, a tightly coiled spring about to burst. He stood on the outskirts of their joyful reunion [_it's only been a day_], and everything seemed to happen in slow motion. His hand reached up slowly, slowly, ever so slowly, and grasped Dreamers' wrist. [_that's too tight. he's holding too tight_] Her eyes snapped open, deliciously slowly, and there was fear there. Even in slow motion, everything was a blur as she was jerked away from Lock [_too tight_] As he turned to face Nails, time sped up and Key could suddenly understand what was going on. She felt, rather than saw, Spot take a step forward and she knew that he was watching the scene with one hand on his cane as the boys faced each other. Nails was smirking with malicious victory, and Lock looked more lost and infuriated than she had ever seen him before.

Their eyes never left each other as Nails nodded, once, and his smirk grew. Locks' fist clenched, and his jaw muscles tensed as he glared back.

Slowly, deliberately, never once taking his eyes off Locks', Nails trailed the fingers of his right hand across Dreamers' cheek, down along her jaw line. As his hand gripped the back of her head, Key could see her wince, her eyes closed in miserable expectation. Nails gave Lock a full out malicious grin before mashing her lips to his in a ferocious kiss. As he pressed his mouth against hers, Key could see that there wasn't any fight in her. In fact, she seemed to wilt in his arms, her shoulders slumped, her arms slack at her sides. And when he finally released her, she cast her eyes to the ground ; the perfect subservient girlfriend.

That's what did it. The grin enraged him, the kiss infuriated him, but the fact that she couldn't even look at him afterwards pushed Lock over the edge. As his fist connected with Nails' jaw, Dreamer simply stepped back, waiting for her boyfriend to divide and conquer.

Key was too frozen with shock to do anything but watch as Nails responded to Locks' attack. It had been clear even before the fight began who was tougher; the outcome was already decided. His eyes were alight with bloodlust and he grinned almost maniacally as he began to rearrange Locks' face.

She felt Spot rush by her, cane out and itching for a fight, but she couldn't get her legs to move. All she could do was stare at the girl who leant against the wall across from her, the girl who met her eyes with shameful pleading.

All she could do was stare at the girl who wasn't alive enough to cry.

Somewhere beneath their locked eyes, Spot had come roaring into the fray. After some well placed clubs of his cane, Nails' boys succeeded in pulling him back. 

The two leaders glared at each other, one with a bloody temple, the other with a bloody cane, and for one horrible minute it seemed that all hell was about to break loose. Spot was now the coiled spring, the warrior, the dangerous one. His voice was dripping with hatred as he growled;

"Get – Out."

At his words, Nails drew himself up to his full height, shaking off the hold of his boys. He leant forward slightly, and spat on Locks' bruised chest. Spot's knuckled where they clutched the cane went white. _Don't start this now. You aren't ready. You'll lose. _Nails reached out and jerked Dreamer to his side. He bowed slightly, and smirked one last time before sauntering to the door, Queens in tow.

They were gone before Spot exploded, his rage thundering through the entire lodging house. Grubbs and Mole whisked Lock up to the bunkroom out of his sight almost immediately before retreating themselves. No one was left downstairs to witness as he lost control, smashing his way through three chairs and part of the banister before calming down enough to notice her.

For Key was still frozen on the bench in the corner, her eyes fixed on a small stain of red on the floor. Her face was whiter than he had ever seen it and as he drew closer, struggling desperately to get his anger back into check, he saw that her eyes were blank. 

Spot knelt down in front of her unseeing eyes, and her lips moved slightly.

"Dreamer," she whispered, "He used to say her name in his sleep."

*****

There was glass on the floor of the Queens warehouse the nest morning. The breeze flowing through the shattered window ruffled Carvers' hair as he knelt to pick up the brick that lay on the floor. Silently, he handed it to his leader. 

Scrawled on a crumpled sheet of newsprint were the words:

This means war

*****

AN: okay, I've got time for a bad pirate joke before I must pass out on my keyboard – How do pirates give three cheers??

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Hip

Hip

A R R R R R R R R R R R R R R R R R R R R R R R R R R R R R R R!! 

…yeah. I need more sleep. As always. Review, please … I will attempt to update soonish this time around! 


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